


Precious Thing

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [26]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, Nighttime, Reader-Insert, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23763016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: Loki muses, at night, about how you hate the cold but love him so warmly.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 13
Kudos: 259





	Precious Thing

You never failed to amuse him. You hated the cold. You huddled under blankets and inside sweatshirts, wrapped in any number of ridiculous-looking fuzzy socks and slippers in hopes of insulating every last shred of your own body’s warmth. 

And every night you slept peacefully beside a frost giant.

Tonight, sleep was eluding him. He’d held you as you drifted off, listened with rapt attention as your breathing changed. Your body always grew a little bit warmer as you were falling asleep, and it fascinated him. Mortal bodies were at once terrifyingly fragile and incredibly strong. Often, on nights like this, he found himself sending waves of gratitude out into the universe, meant for whatever deity may have guided you through life to this point, guided him through life to this point, and brought you together. And if there was no such deity, he thanked the universe anyway.

In your sleep, you clung to him. He was not nearly as cold to the touch in this form as he was when he was full Jotunn, but he knew he still ran a little cooler than you did. When he first began sleeping in your bed, he’d tried to keep something between you—the blankets, or a sheet, anything to keep from leeching away the warmth from your body. But somehow, in your sleep, you squirmed beneath those protective coverings to wrap yourself around him. It used to worry him. His first few nights with you, he found himself unable to move. Could you possibly be comfortable like that? He laid perfectly still, waiting to see if you would begin to shiver. He didn’t want to wake you if he didn’t need to, but he’d be damned if he was going to let you suffer. But you didn’t shiver. 

Slowly, he came to appreciate—and even _like—_ your warmth at night. As soon as he knew that he was not in some way harming you, he let himself curl right back into you. He didn’t need to be particularly warm, but the temperature of your body was something sweet, soothing. Often, it helped lull him to sleep even when his mind raced with thoughts and memories. Perhaps not tonight. He wrapped his arm around your back and held you closer. 

You’d fallen asleep while talking. The two of you did that a lot. Loki had never found it particularly easy to share his thoughts or care about another’s, but when you were lying together in the darkness of your bedroom, he cared. You’d started the night half-laying on him, your chin propped up on your hand on his chest. He liked seeing you there. He liked being able to hold you and look at you at the same time, and he’d never said it aloud but a certain kind of thrill always rushed through him each time he realized that you, his dear heart, were so close to his actual heart. 

As you’d talked and joked and laughed, he’d watched drowsiness steal across your features. Your blinking had grown slower a first, your eyes staying closed a little bit longer each time. Then your breathing had deepened. Your sentences grew shorter. It always made his chest feel tight when he watched you fight your sleepiness so you could stay awake and talk to him. You did it often. He would chide you to let go and fall asleep, would remind you that he’d still be there in the morning, and you would suppress a yawn and assure him that you weren’t sleepy yet. He always rolled his eyes and pretended to be exasperated with you, but he loved it. 

God. He loved _you_.

He drew his fingers carefully along your back, feeling the smooth silk of your skin under his touch. You sighed, or whimpered—made some sweet noise and rubbed your face against his chest. If you were awake, he might worry that you could hear the way you made his heart thud fiercely in his chest. Or perhaps not _worry_. He had no doubts that you knew the effect you had on him, just as he knew what he did to you. He loved to feel your pulse race against his lips when he put his mouth on your neck, or when he nipped carefully at the soft underside of your wrist. It was more of that maddening dichotomy of fragility and strength: those pulse points were quiet reminders of how easily you could be destroyed, and still they served as reminders of what your body could withstand. Take pleasure in. He pressed his hand more firmly against your back, spread his fingers wide so he could take you in. Thor had never mentioned anything like this. All those times that Loki had mocked him for loving that scientist—mortals were fragile and fleeting, but these moments made it worth it.

You sighed again and wrapped your arm more tightly around his middle, and then murmured his name. He froze. You’d only just fallen asleep; had he disturbed you? He lifted his head a little to try to get a better look at your face, but your eyelashes were still fluttering against your cheeks. Were you still asleep, then? Pleasure rushed through him. Were you saying his name in your sleep?

He said your name back to you, then, and reached up with his free hand to caress your arm. “I’m here, love. You are safe.” And you were. You were clutched in the arms of one of the monsters of Asgard, the boogeyman, the creature parents threatened their naughty children with, and you were nude and soft and warm—and safe. You made him feel like he could be more than a monster. He had done terrible things, but surely someone like you would not sleep so peacefully beside someone who could not be better. He wanted to be better. 

You mumbled something in response, but Loki could only hear enough to know that it was mostly nonsense. He let himself smile. He loved hearing you talk in your sleep. Sometimes he’d prod you on, try to engage you in a conversation just to see what you’d come up with, but usually he was too afraid of waking you. He sat up again, just enough to kiss the top of your head, and then pulled the blankets more securely around your shoulders. The cool night air felt like a lover’s kiss against his skin, but he knew you would hide from it, if you were awake. He felt you wriggle a bit against him, pressing still closer even as you wrapped your leg around his. It was impossible for him _not_ to believe that you trusted him, that you wanted him, when you fought so hard to keep him close while you were sleeping. You tightened your grip around his abdomen again, like a hug, and sighed against his chest. “Loki. I love you.”

Your words were clear and unmistakable. This was far from the first time you’d said such words to him, but it was the first time you’d said it in your sleep. Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes, but he blinked them back. If he got too carried away, he might wake you, and he didn’t want that. He closed his eyes and tried to match his breathing with yours. He let the quiet, and the peace, and the warmth of your body finally lull him to sleep.


End file.
